Tolkien's Flying Circus
by The Grimreaper PT
Summary: I doubt there are many who remember this story from the first time round (2000/01) but if there are it has changed quite a bit since then. I started this fic at the age of 14 and at that time it was written in script format. I am re-writing it in story format while trying to keep the original feel of it. Basically it is Tolkien crossed with Monty Python and my weird brain. Enjoy
1. Famous Deaths

Tolkien's Flying Circus

Note: This is a very old fic. In fact I wrote it originally in 2000 (when there was no problem submitting script type fanfics. I never actually finished it then due to computer crashes and losing it all several times. Anyone familiar with my stories will probably find this one a bit strange, well actually it's very strange, very very strange. I was about 14 when I started writing it, and a lot has changed since then, but at the time I was very ill and had nothing to do except write every strange thing that popped into my head. I have entirely rewritten this fic (due to it originally being in script format) but have tried to stick to my original ideas. Still, saying that if anyone remembers the original it will probably seem quite different.

I hope you enjoy it.

PT

Famous Deaths

_The author sits down at the computer and opens the file with a smile. It was time to play around a bit. That's all it is, a bit of fun, a chance to play around in someone else's toy box._

The scene opens on Weathertop. Aragorn is struggling forwards fighting off enemies desperately as he tries to reach his destination. Finally he slays the last creature and looks up out of breath. He breathes a sigh of relief before sheathing his sword and announcing "It's…" Everything goes dark and a slightly confused Gandalf shouts the words that appear in his mind. "Tolkien's Flying Circus!"

Suddenly there is light again and the fellowship find themselves in a very strange world. Nothing looks real. It is as if they are in an illustrated world instead of the real one. The ground is a flat but bright green with no texture to it. The sky is a blue that is just a little too bright and everything is two dimensional. Out of nowhere music begins to play and not just any music; it is the Flying Circus theme music. Unsure what is actually happening the Fellowship find themselves pursued by a 2d but fatal giant foot that continually tries to squash them. One by one they are struck down except for Gimli. The foot catches him last but bounces off of his heavy dwarfish helmet.

As Gimli looks up at the disappearing foot with some confusion the world around him starts to become more solid. The real world is slowly returning until finally as the music stops he is standing once more in Middle Earth. A desk appears in front of him. Looking out towards an inexistent audience he says "Good evening" And sits down. There is a squeal as he realises he has sat down on a pig. Standing up he walks over to a blackboard that has also materialised. The blackboard has several pictures of pigs drawn on it. He crosses one out. Turning back towards the 'Audience' he continues "It's Meriadoc Brandybuck"

Nearby Merry is sitting behind a piano. He is smiling the sort of fake plastic smile normally associated with game show hosts and customer service representatives. "Hello and welcome to the show. Tonight we will continue to look at some famous deaths. Tonight we start with the wonderful death of Boromir of Gondor"

Boromir is standing in a clearing amongst some trees. Lutz the Uruk-hai approaches him with a predatory smile and his bow raised. He shoots Boromir with a single arrow to the chest, but the man doesn't react. Lutz is obviously annoyed by this and shoots him again. Again Boromir doesn't react and Lutz is forced to shoot him a third time. This time Boromir happens to look down, and remembering what he is supposed to be doing suddenly he jumps into the air and falls flat on his back.

Arwen, Elrond and Legolas move to stand next to Merry and hold up score cards for him to read. Merry looks at them for a moment, before reading them out. "9.1, 9.3 and 9.7. That's 28.1 for Boromir." Then he turns to the audience again and continues with his plastic smile firmly in place. "Bad luck Boromir. Nice to have you on the show." A score board appears out of thin air, and not batting an eyelid the hobbit reads from it. "Gandalf the grey-29.9, Elendil-29.3, Isildor-29, Balin-29.0, Boromir-28.1, The Balrog-3.1"

Pippin walks to stand next to the scoreboard with the same plastic grin on his face. "Well here you can see the scores. Gandalf the Grey in the lead there with his death scene in Moria." As he says the word Death Pippin brings his hands up to show finger commas, and then drops them again so that he can continue. "Then comes Elendil, an amazing death that, then Isildor, next it's Balin and then in 5th it's Boromir and then in last place we have the Balrog. Back to you Merry."

Merry has been sitting patiently behind his piano. Now, ensuring his plastic smile is back in place he beams at the 'audience' "Thank you Pippin, and now for this week's special request death." On the top of the piano there is a sparkly envelope. Picking it up with exaggerated movements, Merry picks it up and opens it before announcing the results in an overly enthusiastic voice. "For Mr and Mrs Sackville-Baggins of Bagend Hobbiton, the Death of Mr Bilbo Baggins."

Bilbo is quietly sitting smoking his pipe, when suddenly he grabs his chest. He exclaims "Strewth!" and then falls down dead.

Merry is caught by surprise this time and hasn't managed to get his smile back in place before attention I on him again. Realising quickly that it is his time to speak he rearranges his face and stands up from the piano. "Oh Blimey, how time flies. Sadly we're at the end of our program so…" He sits down and is a little surprised to hear the sound of a pig being sat on again. He looks down confused as a voice sounds out of thin air. It is the author's voice.

"_I would just like to say that no animals were harmed in the last sequence as I am a Vegetarian."_

At another blackboard, this time in a classroom, Frodo crosses out another drawing of a pig. He walks along the blackboard until he reaches some words. They say 'Evening Classes 7-8pm' Underneath it he writes 'Elvish Lessons'


	2. Elvish Lessons

Note: The original version had pig elvish rather than Sindarin or Quenya and the Dwarfish was Swedish due to the difficulty in finding a dwarfish translation. The elvish is now Sindarin, although my grammar is terrible. The change required some changes to the script (can't find an elvish for spoon) the dwarfish however is still Swedish.

**2) Elvish Lessons**

Frodo turns to the class that have gathered in the seats around him. He smiles. "Good evening everyone and welcome to the second of our Elvish classes. In which we'll be helping you to learn Elvish. Last week we started at the beginning and learned the Elvish for 'cup'. Now I wonder how many of you can remember what it is?" The others all put up their hands. The entire class are in fact Elves, Arwen, Elrond, Legolas, Thranduil and Galadriel included amongst them. Frodo glances around. "Not all at once... Sit down Galadriel, Arwen?" Arwen looks very pleased with herself and gives the answer. "Ylf"

Frodo nods. "Well done Arwen, well now, this week we are going to learn some phrases to help us start up a conversation with an elf. Now first of all try telling them where you come from, for example I would say: Hobbiton dorthaned Im. Mas dorthach nin? I dwell in Hobbiton. Where do you dwell. Shall we try that together? With looks of pure concentration the elves repeat the phrases back to Frodo. "Hobbiton dorthaned im. Mas dorthach nin?"

Frodo nods again pleased with their repetition. "Nod too bad, low let's try it with someone else, err…Mr…?" he points to Elrond who sits up straight a single eyebrow raised. "Elrond" Frodo leans back on his desk slightly continuing to nod along. "Ah, Mr Elrond, and where are you from?" Elrond in turn retains his stern look, obviously feeling that Frodo should know this already. "Rivendell." Maintaining his patronising tone Frodo continues. "Ah… You're an Elf then." Elrond sighs heavily. "Yes. I'm Lord of Rivendell." Ignoring the annoyance in the Lord's voice Frodo continues with his lesson regardless. "Well In that case you would say Rivendell dorthaned im. Mas dorthach nin?"

A hand shoots up from the back of the class, it is Legolas. "Frodo?" The Hobbit nods for him to continue. "Am man pennich im, Rivendell dorthaned im? Mirkwood dorthaned im." Frodo looks confused; obviously he hasn't understood what the Mirkwood Prince has said. "I'm sorry I don't understand." Eager to do well in the class Arwen attempts to translate for Frodo. "He said: Why must I say…" But is interrupted by Gimli who stands up. "I förmiddagen för funderare i fel klassificerar" Grabbing the distraction with both hands Frodo turns to the dwarf. "Ah! Gimli, you want Dwarfish next door." Nodding the dwarf picks up his helmet and leaves the room.

Bringing the attention back to her Arwen clears her throat. "He said: Why must I say I dwell in Rivendell when he dwells in Mirkwood." Understanding the problem finally Frodo continues with his lesson. "Ah well, tell him that if he lives in Mirkwood he must say Mirkwood dorthaned im." Legolas scoffs. "Mirkwood i beleg. Rivendell i deleb." Elrond and Arwen look affronted, but Thranduil who is sitting behind his son looks smug. Frodo just looks confused again until Arwen translates for him. "He said that Mirkwood is better than Rivendell." Frodo looks shocked as the elves begin to argue amongst themselves. "Oh, he shouldn't be saying that, we haven't done comparisons yet." The elves are shouting at one another as weapons are drawn. Realising he cannot control his class Frodo moves to sit behind his desk. As he sits there is the noise of yet another pig being sat upon. He sighs.


	3. The Art of Whizzo Butter

3) The Art of Whizzo Butter

Next to another blackboard stands Sam. He crosses out the next picture of a pig in a long line and points off to one side. In the direction of his pointed finger there is an advertisement for Whizzo butter. Sam puts on his best voice over voice and reads from a card he has in his hand. "Yes, Ladies, new improved Whizzo butter contains 10 more or less is absolutely indistinguishable from a dead crab. Remember, buy Whizzo butter and go to Heaven!" Sam then puts the card away and points in the opposite direction.

Looking a little bit confused but getting into it a lot quicker than they possibly should be Aragorn, Gandalf and Radagast are standing in floral dresses and wigs. Sauron approaches them in his full black armour, but he is wearing a suit over the top. He pulls a microphone out of his pocket and thrusts it at Aragorn. "I can't tell the difference between Whizzo butter and a dead crab." The others nod as he talks, completely agreeing with him. Pulling the microphone back to himself Sauron turns to the imaginary audience and speaks. "Yes you know, we find that nine out of ten Middle Earth housewives can't tell the difference between Whizzo butter and a dead crab." The other three nod enthusiastically "It's true, we can't."

Suddenly a look of recognition crosses Gandalf's face. "Here, here, don't I know you from somewhere?" Sauron shuffles nervously as Gandalf continues. "You're from Mordor TV aren't you?" A little too enthusiastically Sauron nods. "Yes, yes I am." The others however eye him suspiciously. "Yes and he does that thing with those silly women who can't tell the difference between Whizzo butter and a dead crab." Wondering where this is going Sauron nods again, but stops suddenly when Aragorn somehow draws his sword while still wearing his ridiculous dress. "You try anything like that around here and we'll split your face.

Feeling it is time to escape Sauron raises the microphone to his mouth again and says "It's the Arts" He points back towards Sam who is now sitting behind a desk. "Hello, and welcome to 'it's the arts' we kick off tonight with the cinema before pointing back towards Sauron who finds himself in a TV studio beside Elrond Peredhil. "Good evening. I have with me today one of the most influential people of this age or indeed any age, Lord Elrond of Rivendell, back in Mordor for the first time in 3000 years to open a season of works entitled 'the war of the ring' here on mount doom. And we are very fortunate to have him here in the studio. Good evening."

Turning to his guest he nods slightly, and Elrond nods back. "Good evening" Somehow managing to cross his legs, Sauron's trouser leg pulls up revealing his armour underneath. "Elrond… you don't mind if I call you Elrond?" Relaxing slightly Elrond nods. "No, not at all." Even with his helmet on the nervous smile Sauron is wearing can be heard in his voice. "Only it does tend to worry people… I don't know why… but they are a little sensitive, so I do take the precaution of asking on these occasions. So Elrond, all right, splendid. Sorry to have brought it up, only eh…" Feeling a little uncomfortable himself now Elrond tries to put the dark lord at his ease. "No Elrond it is." Sauron shifts a little in his seat, obviously still a little nervous. "We;;, thank you very much indeed for being so helpful… only it's more than my jobs worth to… eh…" Elrond tries his best to remain polite but is clearly starting to feel uncomfortable himself. "Quite, yes." Sauron attempts to explain himself. "Makes it rather difficult to establish a rapport… to put the other person at their ease." Elrond nods again looking towards the audience with a worried expression. "Quite". Sauron laughs nervously before continuing. "Yes, silly little point really, but it does seem to matter, still- less said the better. Um… El… When you first started in… You don't mind if I call you El?" Sighing a little Elrond goes along with the conversation. "No, no, no, everybody calls me El."

In Rivendell the elves of Elrond's house look at each other a little confused and ask the same question all together. "We do?"

Back with Elrond and Sauron, Elrond shifts a little in his seat. "Yes you do!" he says before turning back to Sauron who is still obviously nervous. "Well shorter isn't it." The lord of Rivendell nods. "Yes it is." The dark lord folds his gauntlet covered hands in his lap trying desperately to look casual. "Yes and much less formal." Waving his hand dismissively Elrond dismisses his worries. "Yes, Elrond, El, anything" Relaxing slightly Sauron goes on. "Incidently do call me Sauron; I don't want you playing around withal this 'Dark Lord' nonsense, ha. Now where were we? Oh yes, Ely-baby, when you first started in…"

Only half listening Elrond's brow crinkles in confusion slightly as he processes what is being said. "I'm sorry; I don't like being called Ely-baby." Clearly thrown off a little by the interruption, Sauron stops and looks over at Elrond. "I'm sorry?" Looking rather stern Elrond protested. "I don't like being called Ely-baby!" Looking a little startled by the complaint Sauron leans forward a little. "Did I call you Ely-Baby?" Rolling his shoulders uncomfortably Elrond tries to get back to the interview to get it over and done with. "Yes you did, now get on with it." Clearly shocked Sauron puts a hand on Elrond's knee. I didn't really call you Ely-baby did I sweetie?"

Outraged Elrond swatted the hand away. "Don't call me sweetie!" sitting back a little Sauron continues. "Can I call you sugarplum?" Eyes widening Elrond leans back a little in his chair. "No!" Sauron tilts his head a little to one side and goes on. "Pussycat?" Elrond backs up even more trying in vain to get as far away as possible from the Dark Lord. "No!" but Sauron continues. "Angel draws?" On the verge of leaving Elrond makes one last protest. "No you may now get on with it!" and still Sauron continues. "Bill?" That question makes Elrond stop for a moment. "What?" so Sauron repeats the question. "Can I call you Bill?" Still confused Elrond leans forward a little. "Why Bill?" Turning to the imaginary audience Sauron directs his explanation to them. "It's a nice name, Bill. Samwise Gamgee's got a pony called Bill." Elrond looks around even more confused. "What is going on?" But Sauron is unconcerned by his question and gets a little carried away. "Billy, Little Billy, Little Billy knickers…"

Finally having had enough Elrond gets up and makes to leave. "No I'm leaving, I'm off." But Sauron notices him and calls him back. "Tell us about your latest venture Lord Elrond." Surprised by the change Elrond stops. "What?" Sauron pats the chair to entice Elrond to sit once again. "Tell us about your latest venture Lord Elrond if you would be so kind." Narrowing his eyes in suspicion Elrond sits down again. "None of this pussycat nonsense?" Sitting back again Sauron continues in his persuasion. "Promise. Please Lord Elrond" Still suspicious of a trap Elrond watches Sauron closely. "My Latest venture?" Nodding encouragingly Sauron sits back and clasps his hands together. "Yes Lord Elrond." Relaxing back into the chair Elrond begins his story. "Well the idea, funnily enough came from an idea I had when I first…" But Sauron does not let him talk for long. "Oh shut up"

Shrugging Sam looks towards the imaginary audience. "And now for something completely different."


End file.
